


It's life Rogi but not as we know it

by okdreaming



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Crack, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:05:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okdreaming/pseuds/okdreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wouldn't want to spoil the crack for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's life Rogi but not as we know it

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, one-shot AU crackfic (is crackfic ever not AU?). Those not a fan of the crackfic should steer well clear.  
> The title comes from a line in the song Star Trekkin by The Firm. The song and video is a cracktastic classic.

It was on a bright and sunny July morning not too long after Wimbledon that one Rafael Nadal Parera awoke to find himself to be a herself. After screaming in a worryingly deep voice and discovering that no, this was not a dream, he was indeed awake; he sent a simple text to the only person he felt could help him in a situation like this.  
“Rogi, help I turn girl.” After the longest minute of his natural, no make that unnatural life Rafa received a reply.  
“You cheated on Xisca?” Rafa groaned in frustration. Rogi didn’t understand.  
“No I turn girl, no longer boy. Wake up with bits missing.” Less than a minute later he received a reply.  
“Rafa? Have you been drinking?”  
“No, switch on webcam.”  
“Ok.”  
Rafa moved to sit in front of the computer and opened up MSN Messenger.  
Tennis_boiNo1: Is it on?  
TennismanNo2: Yes.  
Tennis_boiNo1: Ok. Can you see me?  
TennismanNo2: Yes, it’s a bit dark  
TennismanNo2: have you grown your hair?  
Rafa noticed for the first time that his glossy brown locks which had been just past his jaw line had grown down to the middle of his back.  
Tennis_boiNo1: Nothing else?  
TennismanNo2: No, what should I be seeing?  
Tennis_boiNo1: I turn girl Rogi.  
TennismanNo2: You turn girl? In what sense? You turned a girl down?  
Tennis_boiNo1: No. I turn into girl. I go to sleep boy. I wake up in morning girl.  
TennismanNo2: Rafa, that’s not possible.  
Tennis_boiNo1: Fine I prove.  
With that Rafa pulled off his top and exposed his chest to Roger.  
Tennis_boiNo1: Can you see them Rogelio? It is not natural for boy to have these, no?  
TennismanNo2: Wh...  
TennismanNo2: ...  
TennismanNo2: Who are you?  
Tennis_boiNo1: Rafa.  
TennismanNo2: No, Rafa doesn’t have ...  
TennismanNo2: ...  
TennismanNo2: ...  
Tennis_boiNo1: I’m Rafa  
TennismanNo2: This isn’t very funny I don’t know how you got this number, or his log in but..  
Tennis_boiNo1: Ok, I prove  
Tennis_boiNo1: When we meet at the net at Wimbledon. You apologise for winning, I tell you that I would beat you in US Open and then you owe me dinner. I no tell anyone this.  
Tennis_boiNo1: Also I see you in changing rooms, I notice that you have strange marking on inside of thigh, very high up near your... when I ask you, you turn red. Why was that Rogelio?  
TennismanNo2: Er...  
TennismanNo2: Rafa?  
Tennis_boiNo1: Yes, you want me to tell you more things that I know Rogelio?  
TennismanNo2: ...  
TennismanNo2: He’s in the room with you isn’t he?  
Tennis_boiNo1: You can come and see that there is no one else in this house with me Rogelio. I move camera.  
Rafa moved the camera around the room before placing it back on the desk.  
Tennis_boiNo1: See there is no one else here.  
TennismanNo2: I’m coming over.  
Tennis_boiNo1: Good. I see you later  
TennismanNo2 has signed off

  
Roger arrived at Rafa’s house in the early afternoon looking like he’d stepped out of the pages of Vogue – tan trousers, beige shirt, brown belt and shoes, and perfectly coiffured hair. Forgoing their usual greeting, Roger systematically searched the house before asking Rafa more than a hundred rapid-fire questions. At the end of it Roger appeared satisfied if somewhat nonplussed. “You really are Rafa.”  
“Yes, Rogelio,” Rafa replied patiently. He’d had some time to get used to it.  
“So you didn’t do anything differently?”  
“No I went out for drinks with some friends, then I come back here. I go to sleep. I wake up girl.”  
“Perhaps you’ll change back tomorrow – maybe this is some kind of 24 hour bug?”  
“Some bug. Huh.” Rafa noticed then that Roger was staring at him. “Rogelio?”  
“Huh... Oh sorry... it’s just really weird...you’re a girl, you’ve got...” he gestured vaguely at Rafa  
“Yes. I girl. Stop staring.”  
“I’m sorry Rafa’s it’s just you look... good, really ...beautiful.”  
“Oh.” Rafa felt his cheeks heating up.

Roger and Rafa spent the rest of the day lazing around the house. They had tried to play tennis but Rafa had to call a halt to proceedings because it hurt so much. How did women play with these things attached to their chests? He wondered while noticing that Rogi was having a lot of trouble hitting the ball.

The following morning Rafa woke up first. Roger had thoughtfully kept him company the night before. He looked at Roger sleeping, elegant like statue. Had he always been this handsome? Roger’s eyes suddenly opened. “Morning,”  
Rafa found himself gazing into unfathomable brown eyes which left him unable to think for a second. “Morn...ing”  
“You haven’t changed back.” Roger stated, pulling himself up into a sitting position.  
Rafa looked down at his chest covered by the sheet. “No. What am I going to do? I can’t be a girl. I’m man. “  
“Give me an hour.” Roger jumped up and went into the bathroom.

Rafa didn’t peek when he came out wrapped in an indecently small white towel. He didn’t notice the light dusting of hair on Roger’s chest. Nor did he notice how nicely Roger’s bum filled out his tight white briefs. And he most definitely wasn’t disappointed when Roger pulled on jeans and a t-shirt. Rafa really hadn’t started to feel very warm or experienced any difficulty breathing while Roger was dressing. Roger smiled at him before picking up his phone and leaving the room. How had he never noticed the devastating quality of Roger Federer’s smile before now? How had he not noticed the way Roger seemed to glow when he smiled? How had he not noticed that the guy was so... hot?

Within an hour a black car with tinted windows pulled up outside his house. Roger went out to the car and accepted a package from the right passenger window. Rafa tried but he couldn’t see who was inside.  
“There you go,” Roger opened the box before placing it on the kitchen table. Inside was a birth certificate, bank books, bank cards, credit cards. All in the name of Rafaela Nadal Parera.  
“How?”  
“Oh," Roger grinned. "You meet people when you’re World No.1 for two hundred and thirty seven weeks. We’ll get a passport later, ok? If you still haven’t changed back.”  
Rafa pulled him into an embrace. “Thank you. You my good friend.” He suddenly noticed how warm Roger was, and how nice it felt to be in his arms. He wished he could be there forever. He pulled back suddenly. What was he thinking this was his friend, not his... “Sorry.”  
“That’s ok, this is a bit of a shock.”  
“Yes,” Rafa agreed.  
“So you want to go shopping?”

Shopping with Roger was an experience that Rafa was not eager to repeat. Ever. His feet were killing him. How much shopping could one person do? You looked, you found colour you liked, you bought. That was it. With Roger, you looked, you found colours, cuts, talked about hair and skin tone – then Rafa had to try the outfits on and walk about like model while Roger said yes, no, and flushed before saying indecent when Rafa tried on some trousers. So Rafa was limited to dresses and skirts – complaining under his breath that he was boy, not girl. How did girls wear these? They cling everywhere, really ugly. Although Rafa noticed that all the guys were looking at him as he walked down the street. He wasn’t at all sure how he felt about that.

Before long Roger had been staying with Rafa for a month. Rafa found he was getting more and more frustrated. He would turn and catch Roger starting at him like a starving man who has spotted a juicy piece of steak but Roger had yet to do anything about it. He would stare, Rafa would smile and then he would make an excuse and leave – his face flushed. Rafa couldn’t take one more second of it. He had a plan: get Rogi drunk, give blowjob, then fuck. It was good plan.

He put his plan into motion the next evening while Roger was watching the tennis highlights. He’d even remembered to put curlers in his hair the night before so that it had that natural bounce. Rafa was wearing a low cut red dress which showed off his D-cup breasts to their best advantage. He knew Roger liked to sneak looks at them. So Rafa sat next to Roger and made sure to lean over every so often. Rafa also added a few extra sways to his hips as he went to the kitchen to get more beer and snacks. When he came back he would brush casually against Roger. Rafa noticed as the flush crept up Roger’s cheeks. Then after an hour of this, Rafa set the next stage of his plan into motion - he accidently fell onto Rogers lap. “Oh sorry, Rogelio, ” Rafa bit his lip to keep from giggling.  
“No...No problem Rafa.” Rafa took his time moving off Roger’s lap, brushing very deliberately against a certain part of Roger’s anatomy. He then slid his hand against Roger’s crotch. Hearing the indrawn breath, he applied more pressure.  
“Rafa what are you doing?”  
“You no stupid Rogelio, I see you looking at me when you think I no see you.”  
“This,” Roger gasped as Rafa started to pull down the zipper of his suddenly very tight jeans.” Isn’t a good idea.”  
“No. I think this best idea I have yet,” Rafa replied before swallowing him whole and almost gagging. He slid back off the end of the cock, before slowly taking the head into his mouth and licking the slit. It was different he though, not what he was expecting. He wondered if he was doing it right, tried to concentrate on what he liked. The gasps, whimpers and moans of Roger clued him into to what he was doing right. Roger’s hands held his head in place. Rafa’s mouth was swiftly filled. Afterwards Rafa pulled himself up off the floor, his mouth aching, to find Roger passed out on the sofa.

“You awake. Good. I think I have to wait all day.”  
“Rafa? What are you doing?”  
“Is it no obvious?” Rafa paused Roger cock in hand, before continuing to stroke him.  
“Oh...no...Oh god.”  
“Good, I think about this all night, waiting for you to wake up.” Rafa pulled back the sheet before climbing on top of the bed and sinking onto Roger’s lap. “Shit,” he muttered as a sharp stabbing pain tore through him. “I no think this hurt.”  
“Rafa... it does the first time.”  
“Oh.” Rafa moved a little experimentally. “Oh,” he started to move little by little developing a rhythm. “This so good, I think of this for long time. I think it is better this way, as girl.”  
“Rafa,” Roger groaned. “ I’m going to...”  
“Oh no. You not do that again, you wait for me,” Rafa pulled Roger’s hands up to his breasts before he began to move slowly, gradually increasing his speed.  
“Oh Rogelio,” Rafa gasped a moment before he was filled with a warm wetness. He sank down against, Roger’s body.  
“So we go again?” He asked when once he got his breath back.  
“Give me a moment to recover,” Roger replied drowsily.

The next month was spent fucking on every available surface in the house, they’d even done it on the beach. An experience Rafa was not keen to repeat as sand got into some very strange places, places Rafa was not even aware he had places.

Eventually it was time for Roger to travel to the US Open. Rafa sulked. He couldn’t go, not that he cared that he was unable to play. No he cared about the fact that while Roger was away he wouldn’t be able to have sex with him. He loved Tennis, he really did but he loved his Rogelio fucking him more.

“You know I have to go,” Roger said one morning at breakfast, noticing that Rafa was somewhat subdued.  
“Yes,” Rafa replied as he shook pepper onto his omelette.  
“I suppose we could get you a passport...” Roger began.  
“No,” Rafa banged down the pepper shaker. “People will ask questions.”  
“Well ... I guess we’ll just have to change your name then – what do you think about Rafaela Federer?” As proposals went it was pretty poor but that didn’t matter to Rafa, once he worked out what Roger was actually asking.  
“ You... “Rafa looked at Roger, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped. “You...” Roger nodded.  
Rafa’s eyes shone and he squealed like a girl, which he was but it was still really odd. However he did like his breasts. They were cool. Anyway. He jumped into Roger’s arms and kissed him. Some hours later Roger asked sleepily, “Is that a yes then?” Rafa showed him that it was most definitely a yes.

The newly married Roger Federer was a two week wonder; the press could not get enough of Roger and Rafaela. They were particularly obsessed with Rafa’s considerable assets. Every day the papers and magazines had shots of the new Mrs Roger Federer – usually doing the most mundane things: getting in and out of cars (Rafa always made sure to wear a very long skirt), shopping, eating in a restaurant and watching her husband playing. Roger won the US Open, of course. Rafa made sure to congratulate the winner in a very private ceremony which continued well into the small hours, so Roger was yawning and blushing his way through his breakfast interviews.

It wasn’t long after this that Rafa started to throw up every morning. He was off his food, and even worse he went off sex. Roger insisted that he visit a doctor at that point. The Doctor bluntly told Rafa that he was pregnant. Did a scan, gave Rafa a picture of his baby which he dutifully showed to Roger, along with the name of an obstetrician and diet card. The two of them were ecstatic once they got over the shock. Rafa’s sex drive came back with a vengeance and he started to get cravings. He craved chocolate cookies, and cock. Not necessarily in that order or at the same time. Rafa had to wear maternity dresses, he actually liked them much more than the outfits he had worn when he wasn’t swollen up like a whale.  
“Does this make me look fat, Rogi?”  
“Ye..,” Roger caught himself. “Why do you ask? You are just as beautiful as the first moment I saw you.”  
“Really?” Rafa’s asked bottom lip wobbling.  
“Of course, you make me horny baby.”  
“Really?” Rafa brightened.  
“Can’t you feel what you do to me?” Roger moved against him.

Roger was completely obsessed with the baby. He bought every pregnancy book known to man and had read each one at least twice. He’d hired experts to organise the house so that it was baby proofed. Sometimes Rafa would wake and find Roger staring at his stomach, touching it. Rafa began to think that Roger cared more about the child than him. Rafa worried what would happen when the baby came. Would he die? He knew women died in childbirth. He wasn’t a woman despite current appearances to the contrary. Everything was about the baby: he had to eat a balanced diet because of the baby, he should go to sleep because of the baby.  
“I’m fat and ugly all you care about is baby. I’m just incubator,” Rafa threw at Roger one day when he gave Rafa some more advice about taking care of himself.  
“What?” Roger looked up from his well worn copy of ‘What to expect when she’s expecting’.  
“You don’t care about me,” Rafa cried. “ You don’t care that I’m getting fat.”  
“Baby you’re ...” Roger began before careful placing a book mark against the page he was reading before putting the book on the console table. He then moved and pulled Rafa into his arms.  
“I’m fat be honest...” Rafa looked at him with tear filled eyes.  
Roger very wisely sidestepped the question – as only one who has Swiss nationality can – and showed Rafa exactly how much he cared about him.

Giving birth was interesting. Rafa quickly got over being petrified about the whole thing and moved on to anger about the amount of pain he was going through. Rafa wanted to kill Roger, it was his fault – after all. He was never going to let Roger touch him again. He was so busy hitting Roger that he didn’t notice when his daughter slid into the world. Rafa only stopped hitting the now cowering Roger when the midwife placed the squalling bundle into his arms. Roger and Rafa agreed that Aimee was the most perfect baby ever to walk the earth. Little Aimee Nadal Federer – all of ten minutes old - had her parents wrapped around her teeny tiny little finger.

There’s not much more to tell except to say they lived happily ever after until the day of the French Open Final the following year. When Rafaela Federer – who was sitting in the player’s box with their one year old daughter Aimee - changed into a naked Rafael Nadal in the middle of the trophy ceremony. But that’s another story!


End file.
